


Constraint

by IreneClaire



Series: Various Notions Collection [37]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Bromance, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hurt Danny "Danno" Williams, Short One Shot, Word of the Day self-challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 15:57:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18920275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneClaire/pseuds/IreneClaire
Summary: As far as Detective Danny Williams was concerned, there were far too many words in his partner's vocabulary. Certain people might object if hearing this for the first time. He might have laughed off the idea himself at one time or another. It was true that Lieutenant Commander McGarrett could be sparse with conversation. Officious and direct; loathe to share prolonged discourse and quite fond of declaring many topics of discussion as off-limits due to classified restrictions. But they'd object without having proper reference.Now though, things had definitely changed with familiarity. Danny could - and would - offer clarity by explaining there were far too many of the wrong words in the fine commander's personal dictionary. None of the right ones and all the ones which managed to inflict damage upon his own sorry self. Like what was happening now.





	Constraint

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Note: I almost named this "Hump Day" but stuck with the Word of the Day. The muse had a bit of a funny-bone w this one. It's a one shot -- really it is. Thanks to Phoebe for the quick read-through (as a one shot). Stickin' to it!

 

 

 _ **Word of the day:** **Constraint** : _ _the state of being checked, restricted, or compelled to avoid or perform some action;_ _a constraining condition, agency, or force; a_ _repression of one's own feelings, behavior, or actions._

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

As far as Detective Danny Williams was concerned, there were far too many words in his partner's vocabulary. Certain people might object if hearing this for the first time. He might have laughed off the idea himself at one time or another. It was true that Lieutenant Commander McGarrett could be sparse with conversation. Officious and direct; loathe to share prolonged discourse and quite fond of declaring many topics of discussion as off-limits due to classified restrictions. But they'd object without having proper reference.

Now though, things had definitely changed with familiarity. Danny could - and would - offer clarity by explaining there were far too many of the  _wrong_  words in the fine commander's personal dictionary. None of the  _right_  ones and all the ones which managed to inflict damage upon his own sorry self. Like what was happening now.

"Constraint is a good word, Steven. In fact, it's a great word. For the sheer number of things you're capable of  _not_  saying, you should incorporate this particular word into your daily lexicon and learn it well," Danny growled angrily into his comm link as he lay flat out on his stomach, bemoaning the quality of the once clean shirt he'd put on that morning. Rolling around in the filth of an old parking garage while trying to evade a hail of bullets, was not his idea of having a good time.

 _"Me? You never shut up,"_  Steve griped quietly. _"Like ...ever."_

"That is so not true. And that's not the point! Unlike you, I know  _when_  NOT to talk," Danny challenged back, glaring into space at the rude snort which echoed to him via his comm link.

Nothing about their current debacle validated that his partner had shown due constraint. Au contraire, it quite proved the lack thereof. Steve should have kept his mouth shut just this once instead of antagonizing the bad guys. This was  _oh so true_  because if Steve had exercised constraint, neither of them would have cracked a sweat that fine Tuesday afternoon. He for one would not have earned the greasy, finger-like streaks of oil which now ran from his shoulder to his waist.

 _Nope_. If his partner had shown some form of constraint rather than exercising his usual gratification by self-indulging in careless abandon to try and talk down the perps by bringing up a past girlfriend of all things, no matter how small of an attempt, Danny was positive that he wouldn't currently be trying to squirm away from the suspiciously cold and slimy  _something_  which was leeching steadily into his pants. It was disgusting and Danny grimaced as a wider swath of material became dampened across his thigh, riding up higher towards his groin.

"God! I hate you so much right now," he complained vehemently, meaning every single word he'd just said. "Once! Just once I'd like a normal day at the office!"

 _"Stop your whining ... show some constraint there,"_  Steve hissed back at him.  _"And besides, you'd hate normal … whatever the hell that even means!"_

"Whining?" Danny glowered. "Guess what, Steven. I'm sending you my next dry-cleaning bill," he spat back angrily as he rocked awkwardly to his drier hip to pinch the now soaked portion of material away from his skin. "Then we'll see who's whining … and why!" He sniffed at his now oily fingertips and nearly upchucked his lunch. The malodor stank from rot and decay; a sickening mix with sharp undertones of fungus or mold.

 _"No one even uses the dry-cleaners anymore Daniel,"_ Steve whispered just as harshly.  _"And you know why? Because no one in Hawaii WEARS dress shirts … like EVER! It's been almost ten damned years. Get with the program already!"_

"Ito Makaha would disagree with you there," Danny said sarcastically. "And I've know him longer than I even known you on this rock." He tried to wipe his fingers on his already ruined shirt to rid himself of the smell, but solved only part of the problem. The stench still remained and he stifled a gag after giving his fingers another tentative sniff.

At this rate, he was probably going to contract hoof and mouth disease.

_""Who? Who's that?"_

"What who?" Danny asked distractedly. "Hey did you hear that?" He automatically narrowed his eyes when Steve mumbled something under his breath. He listened harder but Steve's next words weren't what he'd expected to hear.

 _"That guy who would disagree,"_  Steve said. He sounded equally distracted and Danny could tell his teeth were gritted. He was concentrating on something else and Danny waited. Quiet as a church mouse: see he could be quiet! And Danny smirked to himself as he won a mental gold star.

_"Whaddaya talking about, Danno? What ... who?"_

"What? Who am I talking about? The man who owns the dry cleaners. The man who needs to feed his rather large and very extended family," he explained sarcastically, wondering why in hell they were even still going on about it. He paused sure he heard a noise. A soft soled shoe on concrete? The scuff of grit? Danny held his breath but whatever it was ... was gone, if it had even happened.

 _"Ito ... ? Never heard of him,"_  Steve insisted in his ear. Danny squirmed more as the dank whatever dared to tease his kneecap. This was definitely Steve's doing, no two ways about it. Maybe he was getting a kick-back or it was some kind of weird McGarrett lesson he was supposed to learn.

"Oh, hold on one second. I get it! I see it now … maybe you know him and are in cahoots to give him more business. Is that it, Steven?"

_"Cahoots?! You're out of your mind! Where do you come up with this stuff?"_

"The same damned place that you come up from to make my life a miserable place!" Danny virtually shouted into his link. "And I'm out of  _my_  mind?! Seriously, Steven! Me!? Who put us here and why?  _Huh_? Who?"'

A sharp-toed boot in his ribs ended his tirade. He gasped and tried to roll to his feet, but the unexpected shock of the blow took his breath away. He only managed to tip to the side, his gun hand just coming up when another solid hit found the back of his head. Where the hell had this guy come from? With Steve's angry shouts in his ear, Danny whited out entirely, all other sarcasm dying with his last exhale.

When he next roused it was to Steve's persistent voice inside his head. Pestering. Wheedling. Cajoling. Arango was a stupid-ass. If his gun was missing, why hadn't the moron taken his comm link, too?

_"Danny ... answer me. Right now!"_

"Shuddup. Please," he complained. "Ow." He was still prone and he thought, alone. A tentative examination of the back of his aching head had him wincing and cursing softly to himself.

 _"There you are!"_  Steve joyfully shouted in his ear.  _"You good? Where are you?"_

"No, I'm not good you Neanderthal ass," Danny griped as he propped himself up on his elbows. He looked around, displeased at what he saw even if he was alone. At least for the moment. A small dark room was not in his best interests. At least there was a bit of light from a small window, up high near the room's ceiling. Underground then; the sub-basement.

 _"Where. Are. You."_  Steve repeated.

"I thought there were no basements in Hawaii," Danny griped into his fist as a wave of dizziness nearly made him white-out for a second time. He gagged and stopped speaking, sending his partner into an alarmed tizzy.

 _"Danno? Hey! Hey ... Danno!"_  The hiss of his name into his ear piece was too loud had him wincing and cursing all over again.

"You tell me where I am," Danny complained petulantly. This entire situation was completely unacceptable in his opinion. From Steve's lack of constraint in keeping his damned mouth shut about Arango's now  _ex_ -girlfriend - to where he now found himself.

 _"What's it look like?"_  Steve whispered.

Danny forced his aching head back up. "Bigger than a supply closet. Stinks. A few barrels. It's cold ..." Danny shivered as he realized how cold he was feeling and his voice waned. Much to his chagrin, that only ratcheted up the alarm in his partner's voice all over again.

_"Danny? Come on, stay with me. What else? Can you hear anything?"_

Yeah, sure he could. He heard voices. Nearby. Just outside the door in fact and Danny winced as he looked at the sliver of light leaking in from the outside. "Two ... Arango. Arango and the other guy. They're just outside."

 _"Hold tight,"_  Steve promised.  _"On my way."_

Danny would have rolled his eyes if not for the pounding behind them.

**H5O* H5O**

"Should I show some constraint, Danno?" Steve asked far too sweetly in an annoying stereo-phonic tone. He was close but Danny couldn't figure out exactly where 'close' might be.

"I hate you so much right now," Danny mumbled into his fist as he rocked his head from side to side on his forearms. "Just get me the hell out of here, would-ya."

"Oh," Steve's stereo-ed voice continued on, echoing in the small room and his ear simultaneously. It seemed to be coming from above him. In the rafters. There was a metallic quality to what Danny was hearing.

"Now it's okay? I shouldn't show constraint by not trying to talk them into letting you go? I shouldn't just sit here and wait then?"

Danny perked up a bit as he figured it out. Steve was in the ventilation system. He was crawling through the damned thing in the ceiling. But Danny had only requested a due course in  _con_ straint ... not  _re_ straint. Steve could do as he damned-well pleased just then. He  _wanted_  Steve to do something such as he was right at that moment. Dragging himself through a dusty old ventilation shaft to sneak up on the bad guys was a fine choice indeed! Danny vowed to buy his partner a damned dictionary because Steve did have lots of words in his arsenal.

But not only the wrong ones; perhaps also, the wrong definitions of them.

"No. No more  _talking_. Your verbal approach sucks eggs. Do not piss off the bad guys any more than they already are, Steven. My head hurts enough for one day," Danny ground out. "So shut up, Steven, and just  _do_  something already," he whispered and maybe something in his own tone got Steve moving because all Danny could then murmur was an equally weak ' _yeah_ ' to mimic Steve's final monosyllabic jest.

Snuffling back a tired chuckle as he heard a clank much like that of a flash bang canister being dropped - or a tear gas canister. Danny didn't have long to wonder about which as one of their perps screeched - yes, literally screeched - while Danny now resolutely stayed stranded on his belly. The position was definitely a safer one as he kept his face hidden in his forearms.

"How is this my life?" He groaned under his breath, starting to cough as some of the first tendrils of gas snuck under his sleeves. Tear gas. Of course. At least it wasn't a flash bang. Or, maybe it should have been one because Danny was in a different room after all. Evidently tear gas was more fun to play with on Tuesday afternoons.

In the distance, there was another bang and another barely human-like screeching sound. Arango? The other guy? It didn't matter really. from a combination of gas and the nauseating pounding inside of his head, Danny gagged through a wry chuckle imagining what Steve was up to by that point.

The third bang startled him though. It was loud and right on top of him. He lifted his head to peek up, when a murky light proved the door to his short-term cell had been kicked open.

The tall back-lit silhouette was a welcome sight and Danny managed a relieved smile.

"Danny? Danny!"

"Yup. S'me," Danny slurred as he let his hurt head drop back to his arms. He didn't move a muscle as Steve shouted his name. Not so much as a twitch because Steve owed him a dramatic rescue and he should be tasked heavily with doing all the work; including the heavy lifting. Danny's current predicament was his fault after all. Danny's rescue would be his penance.

Satisfied with reasoning he didn't feel was very flawed at all, Danny started to sink further into the concrete floor. His mind wandered away as his partner insisted upon patting him down through an ocassional cough or two.

"You're good buddy. You're fine," Steve seemed to promise him and Danny sank even lower. Sure he was perfect. He ignored how he felt himself being lifted by the back collar of his tac-vest. Clear off the ground in fact. He ignored the brief feeling of being choked to death as the material caught the front of his throat. He didn't do a damned thing even when he felt himself being heaved over a strong shoulder.

"Happy Tuesday, Danno," Steve said as he lugged him from the room. "I bet you can't wait for Hump Day."

As he allowed himself to settle over Steve's back, his head hanging down as limply as his arms in a most embarrassing way, Danny dimly promised to kill his partner ... later though ...when he was feeling better.

_**~ End. ~** _


End file.
